


Tale As Old As Time

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beast!scott, Beauty!Isaac, M/M, Minor death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is the legendary beast that lived in the old castle in the middle of the Howling Forest. Stumbles in Mr. Lahey, on one of his drunken detour that takes a bad turn, when the beast finds him stealing from the castle.</p><p>Now, whom would Mr. Lahey barter to take his place as the  beast’s prisoner?</p><p>Of course, the innocent, angelic beauty that was his son, Isaac.</p><p>"The Beast lives up to his name, my dear friend. He is most dangerous and could put you in harm’s way, more than anyone ever could. You could not have seen nor heard of such cruelty before, Isaac. You cannot be his prisoner, you have to flee."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tale As Old As Time

Isaac had known Stiles all his life.

He was fairly tall, pale and freckle faced with a broad smile. And he didn’t look a day older than he did when Isaac first met him.

That was ten years ago.

So, when Isaac heard the footsteps which he knew could only belong to his childhood friend, walking from the back door, probably looking the same as he always did, Isaac didn’t bother to look up from the novel he was currently reading. Their ‘meetings’ were usually one-sided with Isaac venting his frustration, talking about his dreary life and asking for guide or advice, which would earn him a nod or  a smile, maybe, but nothing more.

Isaac was not in the mood for such a meeting, at the moment. His father was unusually late tonight, leaving Isaac to his sweet freedom of enjoying his hobby, sitting in his favorite armchair alongside the fireplace in peace. He would hate to sweep away the chance of having a good time in the quiet, reading a beautiful book, just so that he could talk about how worse his days were getting as the winter nights grew longer. 

But, Stiles seemed to have different ideas in his mind.

A hand was on his shoulder and before Isaac knew it, he was being pulled out of his comfortable armchair, his hardbound book falling to the ground with a loud thud.

“My book!” Isaac was very fond of his books. He didn’t understand Stiles’ foul mood. This had never happened before.

When he tried to pick up the fallen book, Stiles would not allow him to. He pulled and kept Isaac arrested in his place, even though the taller boy struggled with all his might.

“ _Look_ at me, Isaac!” 

Isaac looked at his longest friend for the first time that night and saw something different than what was always there. The man’s brown eyes were inhumanely wide and his teeth were bared like a predator’s.

“Heed my words, dear friend,” said Stiles in a voice that sounded nothing like Isaac’s old friend. “It might be the very last words you hear if you do not.” He shook Isaac and Isaac shook like a leaf. It seemed that if the man chose to, he could very well hurt him.

Isaac had never thought his friend to be dangerous.

A twig broke from the woods in the fireplace, and the fire’s cackle grew a little louder for a moment.

Stiles spoke again and it was the voice of the Grim Reaper himself.

“You have been _spoken for_.”

“Spoken for?” asked Isaac, his breath hitching.

“Yes. By your very own father.”

When Isaac struggled again to get away this time, Stiles let him. The tall boy fell into his chair and stared at his friend, not willing to believe his ears. It didn’t make any sense. His father had gone to take care of some business in town.

“My father left to take care of some business in town.”

“Did he?” The expression on his friend’s was chilling. “Or did he sell your soul to the very Beast, who has ruled and haunted the Howling Forrest for eons?”

The night grew darker outside the windows; the sound of crickets could be heard.  Isaac’s father was never this late. Isaac was never left unsupervised this long.

“What is this?” whimpered Isaac, his head in his hands, his body growing cold, “You talk foolishly, my friend. There is no Beast! You jest me with these talks!”    

“You listen to me, Isaac Lahey!” shouted Stiles, his hands gripped tight on either side of the armchair, “You will make haste, and before that vile creature you call a father returns, you will leave your home, and you will leave this village.”

“What?” Isaac sat with his eyes fixed on his distraught companion, “My father is not – !”

“Your _father,_ you impertinent clotpole _,”_ Stiles spoke harshly, spitting out the words with enough force to make the boy withdraw further back into the chair, “has given his word to the Beast that he may take you as his prisoner.”

“The beast doesn’t exist but in the heads of children, and in the words of their nurses,” said Isaac, closing his eyes. He would not believe his friend. He could not.

Stiles moved away from him, and walked towards the window. The moon had come out, and shown through the dark night, a beacon to all things ill-omened.

“I swear by our friendship,” said Stiles, looking at the moon forlornly, his face even more paler than usual, “what I say is true. You have to heed my words. The Beast lives up to his name, my dear friend. He is most dangerous and could put you in harm’s way more than anyone ever could. You could not have seen nor  heard of such cruelty before, Isaac. You cannot be his prisoner, you _have_ to flee.”

 Stiles didn’t say anything after that. Isaac could not form a coherent word, immediately, either.

So Isaac let the fire cackle loudly and the crickets and night birds sing and fill the quiet air between them.  His breath became more relaxed and his will became more resolute, the tale that his childhood friend had brought with him that night, sinking into his bones.

“I cannot disrespect my father’s wishes, Stiles,” said Isaac as if in a trance, “I cannot be a cause to bring him dishonor.”

“Ha! Dishonor!” Stiles said, raising a single eyebrow as if to mock him, “That very man who treats you less honorably than a man would his slave, and you speak for his honor!”

“He is my father!” Isaac rose from his chair, his cheek reddening in anger.

“Only by blood!” yelled back Stiles.

“Blood is all I have!”

A knock from the front part the house dispelled whatever was about to be spoken.

“He’s here” said Isaac, relieved. His father was back from town. May be, all this was just a misunderstanding.

“You have to run, my friend,” said Stiles, one last time, “ _Please_.”

Isaac straightened to his full height, his jaw tightening. He cared for the pale looking man; he had known him all his life. He knew him to be honest and a true friend. And, he also knew his friend meant the best for him and if he thought fleeing was for the best, then, it most probably was.

Isaac glanced at the door and then back at his friend – then again at the door, where his father knocked once more.

“I can’t,” Isaac said at last, and without looking at the man, he left to open the door for his father.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there! Ahem, I'm starting a new series? It's a little unnerving, but I really want to give it a shot, so here I am. 
> 
> You might have noticed the "Old-ish" way of dialogue I have used for Stiles and Isaac. Although, this might be irritating for some, because it strays away from sounding in-character', in my opinion, using modern day slang in a fairy tale setting in an 'old-ish' era, with castles and all, wouldn't work out so well. Hence, my apologies to those who find the dialogues out of character. 
> 
> Also, I'm not an expert at medieval English. Far from that. So, those of you that know more about it, feel free to leave me pointers. It would be great help. 
> 
> And lastly, love you guys! Scisaac foreverrr. 
> 
> Please review. :)


End file.
